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It’s 1943 and the London Blitzkrieg was still raining down. Billy was the only boy living on the cul-de-sac of a few small houses and acted like the “cock of the walk” over the other children living there, all girls. That is until Catherine and her mom, Joan, moved in. Cath immediately beats him in a fight and Joan has him in a very feminine apron almost immediately. It’s the sweet story of a boy becoming a sissy.

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    She was speaking. "Now Billy? You have really lovely hands. Nice and plump and soft, but you're not showing them off to best advantage. Girls the same age as you are already way ahead of you in nail care. Now that you're knitting - and especially one I teach you to sew, you'll be dealing with much nicer and finer fabrics - I mean you wouldn't want to be snagging your nails on your nylons would you?"

    Sewing? Nylons? What was she talking about? But I couldn't think. Was completely lost, bedazzled by her proximity, the feel of her dress under my hand, the scent of her - the femininity that was enveloping me.